


Be as You've Always Been

by Midnight_Queen



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Gil-Galad deserves to have nice things okay? Dude needs a break, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25629745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnight_Queen/pseuds/Midnight_Queen
Summary: “It was a pleasant, sunny day, with a cool breeze blowing through the trees as Ereinion rode through the forest. He sighed deeply, smiling as the wind whipped through his hair, blowing the pale blond strands across his face. He swept them aside with his free hand, tossing his head back and laughing loudly with the simple joy of being alive and outside in the sunshine. No heavy robes, or delicate, intricate braids in his hair, or the crown that carried much more weight than its own mere mass. He enjoyed being king, most days, and did his best to be just and fair…But by the Valar, it felt good to have a day off and simply be.”“Gil-Galad was an elven-king…” so the song goes. Ereinion, however, was still an elf. Occasionally, he simply wanted to be an elf. Occasionally, he was allowed to indulge.Title from Hozier's song, "Be"
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	Be as You've Always Been

**Author's Note:**

  * For [morifiinwe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morifiinwe/gifts).



> DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Silmarillion or any of those characters mentioned in this piece! It all belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien!
> 
> A belated birthday fic for morifiinwe about one of our mutual favorite boys.

_Today, I am not Gil-Galad,_ he thought, tucking his leggings into his boots and lacing them up almost absently. He rose from the bed, carefully and deliberately laying his crown aside in its usual spot on a stand on his desk. _Today I am not the High King of the Noldor. I have no council meetings to attend, no treaties to read or write, no reports to give to Erestor, or other paperwork from Elrond. Today, I am not High King Gil-Galad. Today, I am simply Ereinion._

Ereinion picked up his spear and left the room, heading outside to the stables. His horse nickered happily when she saw him coming, and Ereinion snuck her a sugar cube as he rubbed her neck—he had a stash of sugar cubes in his rooms for her, which he may or may not have stolen from the kitchen. He chose to forgo a bridle and saddle, leaping lightly onto the horse’s back; he was not riding into battle today, and so saw no need for it.

It was a pleasant, sunny day, with a cool breeze blowing through the trees as Ereinion rode through the forest. He sighed deeply, smiling as the wind whipped through his hair, blowing the pale blond strands across his face. He swept them aside with his free hand, tossing his head back and laughing loudly with the simple joy of being alive and outside in the sunshine. No heavy robes, or delicate, intricate braids in his hair, or the crown that carried much more weight than its own mere mass. He enjoyed being king, most days, and did his best to be just and fair…But by the Valar, it felt good to have a day off and simply _be_. 

Ereinion finally came to a stop in a large clearing, hopping off his horse’s back and allowing her to graze at the far side of the meadow. As for himself, he stood in the meadow, spear down at his side, and closed his eyes. He breathed deeply, centering himself here, in this moment. He relished the sharp, earthy smell of the forest, the faint but heady aroma of the wildflowers. Birds chirped and sang around him, animals shuffled and moved in the undergrowth, and the wind rustled gently through the trees, toying with the ends of his hair as it hung loose.

His clear, grey eyes snapped open, and Ereinion moved almost without conscious thought, stepping forward and extending his arm to thrust with his spear. His opposite hand came up, gripping the spear lower down and allowing him the leverage to swing around in another strike, shifting his weight and advancing forward again, drawing the spear in an arc over his head before thrusting forward again.

Ereinion continued his training drills for a few long moments, moving in practiced, fluid movements and with a sharp, deadly grace. He grinned to himself; it was relaxing, meditative, to practice drills so familiar his body could do them in his sleep and his mind did not have to think to reach them. He spun away from an imagined attack, slashing with the blade of the spear before drawing up beside him, the butt of the weapon pointed up and nestled between his shoulder blades. Quickly, he reached behind him with his free hand, grabbing the end of the spear and drawing it in a slashing strike before stepping forward with a final thrust.

 _Today I am not the king, and I have no battles to fight,_ Ereinion thought as he stood up straight, relaxing from his fighting stance. _Today I am not High King Gil-Galad; I am simply Ereinion._


End file.
